• Me?

Dirty Sean

~ Unearthing Treasures, Mapping Truths, Navigating Life

Dirty Sean

Category Archives: Chronicles of Don’t

Chronicles of Don’t: Arrested.

19 Monday May 2014

Posted by Meagan Sean in Chronicles of Don't, Dirty's Reports

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Chronicles of Don't, inappropriate, True Life

ALCOHOLWhen I was in college there was nothing I enjoyed as much as a good party. These were the days before I found my favorite drunk activity: un-friending people on Facebook and forgetting about it the next morning. I was the girl who talked to everyone, who danced on sofas, who played beer pong really badly but kept on trying. I didn’t get a rep as a party girl in the way that some girls did because I didn’t party with the frats or sports teams. I partied with the people I enjoyed spending time with sober.
Issues arose, however, one fateful night in the end of January during my junior year when the party I was at got busted and I got arrested for underage drinking. I am not proud of that, but I’m not ashamed either. I was breaking the law and I got what I deserved. The punishment fit the crime (har-dee-har-har). I don’t suggest that anyone break the law if they can help it, but I will add that if you are going to get arrested you might want to do it like I did. Because I thought the entire thing was hilarious.
The party I was at got busted because my friend was yelling at his girlfriend in the driveway of the house in the residential neighborhood where the party was held. He was very drunk, and I was attempting to get there. I ended up trying to talk to him inside, and I recall that he was crying and being upset and whatnot. I tried to be supportive, but I was sort of not listening. Then my friend, whose party it was, came up to me and said “Megs! Are you 21?”
“No.”
“OK, the cops are here…you gotta go. When you leave go out front through the front yard.”
“OK!”
I get up and talk to a few more people, put on my pink moon boots and my black pea coat and leave. I followed his directions, leaving through the back door and turning right at the end of the driveway to go through the front yard. What he hadn’t mentioned was the foot of snow that had accumulated and the enormous hill of plowed snow in the middle of the yard. I sort of shrugged and started across the yard, snow getting in the pink moon boots, and made it possibly 6 feet across when a flashlight beam hit me, and someone told me to stop and turn around. So I did.
I trekked back through the snow and talked to the flashlight-wielding policemen.
“You, have you been drinking?”
“Yes.”
”How old are you?”
“20.”
“And how much have you been drinking?”
“Too much because I’m not 21 so I shouldn’t be drinking at all!”
I laughed. The cops looked at each other.
“OK, why don’t you wait here with officer *white-noise*.”
“OK!”
It was pretty cold, and I just stood there fidgeting for a minute before informing the officer that I could get really upset about being arrested or see it all as a joke and keep my buzz, at which point he told me to go wait in the cop car.
Inside the car I discovered a girl I played tennis with freshman year freaking out because her 16-year-old boyfriend who was on parole and didn’t have a license was currently driving around the neighboring town to avoid getting pulled over. Then she informed me that they were engaged, and I congratulated them because I didn’t care. I took a minute to call my mom, since the police didn’t take my phone, and she was rather surprised (understatement) and told me not to say anything and she would call my friend whom I had gone to the party with who was still inside. Another passenger showed up shortly, the girlfriend of the party-thrower. It was freezing and I was sitting in the middle of them with any belt buckle devices that could have been useful shoved where they didn’t need to be, but I talked to the girlfriend about what was going to happen and who got arrested. She was explaining to us about this kid we’ll call Grant, and how the cops couldn’t hold him because he was of age and didn’t have anything on him. Then we heard some shouting behind us, so we all watched out the back of the car as Grant was released to get out of there, at which time he yelled some inappropriate things to the officers and they straight up pepper sprayed him in the face and arrested him. It’s like the situation was the definition of “Well that escalated quickly.” My reaction was something along the line of “Well shit dude, that sucks. I have to pee.”
We were driven to the police department, where I was allowed to use the bathroom alone. Apparently the police department was going through renovations because it had 2 or 3 chairs in the waiting area and looked like it was in the middle of renovations. Because of this the cells were not finished, so instead of being forced to pee in front of any and all girls in the cell with me, which is how things went down with friends who got arrested in the future, I got the enjoy the privacy of the cramped bathroom by myself. Winning!
(Another interesting thing I learned about this police department after the entire process was that they didn’t have to read you Miranda rights. I don’t remember the reasons, but I looked it up when I realized that they never read me mine. In fact I wasn’t cuffed or anything, they just did paperwork on me.)
When I went out to the seating area there were more kids from my school there in different levels of unhappiness. I turned to a kid I knew and started talking to him, which apparently was a bad idea because he was super angry and I sounded like a cheerleader at a pep squad rally.
“Hey, how are you!? It’s been a while, how’s your night been? Oh, not talking to me? OK!”
This kid was not having it. He started going off about how he only had one beer and that they got him for having beer in his backpack. I was very sympathetic.
Things got quiet again and I turned to a girl I’d had a class with and we started talking about her absolutely killer high heels, which was nice because everyone else was being all upset and I wasn’t having it. I covertly pulled out my phone, texted my mom, and started playing Tetris.  Grant showed up and started talking to the entire room about civil rights and how he was going to make his family sue the cops, which I didn’t expect to happen but he was all fired up.
I was called in to be processed for internal possession, and blew a .14 on the breathalyzer. The officer said that I was very put together for how drunk I was, and I smiled and thanked him. Having listened to my mother’s advice about being quiet I answered any and all questions, then started chatting with the officer about how his wife was from Bangor, Maine, and then I showed him my tattoos. I only had two at the time, but I was quite proud of them!
The worst part of the experience was not that I had to wait in the seating area sitting on the cement floor, or that I was getting really tired and desperately needed a cigarette… It was hearing my mother’s best friend’s voice when she came to pick me up.
My mother, in a panic, had decided to call her friend who lived 45 minutes from where I was in school. This woman is wonderful and I love her dearly, but she has a strong Italian/Boston accent, and for a 5 foot nothing little spitfire with big hair she can sure command a room.
She started yelling at me as soon as I was in the car.
“What are you doing getting arrested? I told you to have fun in college, I didn’t say to get arrested!”
I was exhausted, but thankfully the ride was under 5 minutes to my dorm. And when I pulled out a cigarette when I got out of the car to give her a hug…
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING SMOKING? ARE YOU KIDDING, DO YOU REMEMBER HOW MUCH WEIGHT I GAINED WHEN I QUIT?”
“Uh, do you want one?”
“NO! GO TO BED, I’M CALLING YOUR MOTHER. LOVE YOU.”
So she left me to smoke a cigarette and call my mom. I found out later that she had told my mother that I looked wicked cute and was surrounded by black guys and I was definitely going to have sex with one of them. She’s a little dramatic.
After talking to my mom I started to freak out and called my best friend from high school to cry. It wasn’t until then that I started to process the night appropriately, but I’m fine with that. I would have been a hot mess of tears and snot had I started to take it seriously before I got home, and I didn’t have tissues on me.
So that’s the story. I had to go in and get my urine tested for 12 weeks and take a FAST class (alcohol prevention) to get the charge sealed or expunged or whatever. It’s funny, when I fill out job applications I always ask the person if I should put it down in the area that asks about being arrested and they usually say no. In fact, most of the people I ask basically wave it off like it’s nothing. Now, that doesn’t mean I would do it again, by any means. But I will say that I am proud of the fact that I didn’t just get arrested for underage drinking, I didn’t let getting arrested stop me from trying to enjoy my night and annoy the crap out of the grumpy people I was stuck with.tumblr_m4whtp4M8m1r2ow8b
dirty

Chronicles of Don’t: Identity & Self-worth

13 Monday Jan 2014

Posted by Meagan Sean in Chronicles of Don't, Dirty's Reports

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Chronicles of Don't, My Philosophy

mindyrolemodel
I am not in the business of making resolutions that I intend to keep. Were I to choose to give myself a time limit or a due date I would be guaranteeing that whatever I were to accomplish by that time would be late or never happen at all. I’ve also had a phenomenon the past few years of having each year become focused on something drastically different from the last, without my resolutions or goals being involved in the slightest. First once upon a January I moved to Mass without a plan and had to trust God for everything. A year later I left my job and enrolled in a Cosmetology program, ended up moving a few times, and found myself sinking by the end of the year into a jobless, homeless pit. At the beginning of the next year I moved home to be with my family, and to make that year about being able to love them in the best ways that I can.
This year I don’t exactly have a plan. I have some goals I’d like to work on, but they are focused on my self-discipline more than anything else. When I discuss what I hope this New Year to be producing in me I can only focus on what I pray God will grow in my life. I have this theory that if I give as much as I can to Him and pray that He will multiply it in my life that He will be faithful to do what will bring me closer to Him, even if that means attempting to wake up earlier and ready His word, or to reestablish some of our communication lines.
What I refuse to focus on when it comes to goals and resolutions, or whatever you might call them, is my identity or self-worth.
When these words are mentioned in reference to goals for this upcoming year they are more about regrets for the past year. The resolutions turn into finding where my identity is or working on my self-worth because of feeling like nothing was accomplished that’s worth talking about in the past year.
For me these words, identity and self-worth, turn on a beeping noise in my head, very much like the one that our fire detector does when grease is falling on the bottom of the oven and making the room smell bad.
If I could consider myself an expert on anything I would most definitely say I’ve got a grade A education in Hot Mess, Media Factoids, and a PHD in Sarcasm. I also have come to a deep, deep understanding of how it feels to lack self-worth, and exactly how important it is to find my identity in Christ. But I don’t believe that what I know so well in my heart is where most people are coming from, mainly because they don’t have the symptoms to match the illness, but it’s good to keep things in perspective.
When I lost my identity, I wasn’t just going around wondering what I was doing with my life. I wasn’t wondering what other people would call me because of what I did. I didn’t know who I was to myself, and I refused to ask God who He knew I was because I knew: I am a sinner, no better than the idiot over there, especially since I just called him an idiot for no good reason and I should know better. There was nothing in me or about me that made me different from anyone else. I went through life pretending to know who I was and what I was about, pretending not to care about what other people said, and finding my self-worth in all kinds of places.
Self-worth can be defined as a feeling that you are a good person who deserves to be treated with respect, and so it is directly linked to your identity, which is who you are: the qualities and beliefs that make a person different from others. I had such little self-worth that I didn’t even treat myself with respect, and I didn’t expect it from others.
In the middle of a year, when I was really losing my mind, I decided that there was nothing left to lose. I asked God if He could give me a new identity, and He did.

“Truly, truly, I say to you, whoever hears my word and believes him who sent me has eternal life. He does not come into judgment, but has passed from death to life.” – John 5:24

He’s been telling me all about who He created me to be ever since. Some days it’s not easy to hold the responsibility, but the pros outweigh the cons. Through this revelation of who I am in the eyes of the most important person in the entire universe, I began to realize what my self-worth actually was. It was weird; quick at times and slow at others. It was full of mistakes and backsliding and mountains jumping out of the way as soon as I started climbing. It’s always a part of my journey because self-worth is not a destination. The worst days are when I forget that it’s not a mission or a contest; that there is no way I will earn the self-worth that I’ve been given through my identity. I can never do enough to believe my life is worth anything, not a single thing. What I can believe is what God has said about my identity, that it is found in Him and nowhere else.
dirty

Chronicles of Don’t: The Rebel Yell

10 Tuesday Dec 2013

Posted by Meagan Sean in Chronicles of Don't

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Chronicles of Don't

REBEL
The other day I was in the car listening to Billy Idol on the radio singing about the rebel yell. According to Mr. Idol it goes something like this:

“More! More! More!”

The definition of a rebel is a person who rises in opposition or armed resistance against an established government or ruler, but when it comes down to it I think that Mr. Idol has made a very strong and concise point. A rebel is not just someone who is in opposition, it’s a person who wants more than what they have been given and will buck against the structures that are in place in order to get it.
There is a reason that we relate to the characters in movies, tv shows, and books who are a part of a rebellion. There is a reason that we are rooting for the underdog who is going against the system in order to get more, be it food, freedom, money, basic human rights, love, fast food, paperclips, etc. We are on their team because we want more.
I’ve been rebellious for a long time. My heart has made its desires known to my actions, who seem more than willing to go along with it, and my brain usually stays out of it long enough for me to get myself into trouble.
It’s everywhere in me, this want for more than what I’ve been given. I want second helpings because I want more than the amount of food that was given to me. Consequently I gain weight. When I was underage I wanted to drink alcohol and made it happen. Consequently I was the most obnoxious girl at the police station the night I got arrested, partly because I didn’t take it seriously and partly because I was still buzzed. I want more sleep so I keep hitting snooze on my alarm. Consequently I don’t have enough time to get ready and am late for work.
And even deeper down I find myself rebelling. God put certain structures in place for us to keep our hearts safe and protected, to be in a place of blessing. All it takes is listening to Him and doing what He asks. Maybe it is spending time every morning reading the word, or the kind of life decision that would lead someone to become a full time missionary. It could be adhering to His law in simple ways (don’t hate, don’t kill, don’t steal). It could be convictions that the Spirit has given you particularly, a way that God wants you to approach an area of your life. He guides us in these ways and more so that we can experience the contentment of being led by Him and the blessings that He has timed perfectly.
Conceptually I love this. You would never know that in my day to day life. Instead of choosing to bow my heart down most mornings seem to start with a riotous battle cry of “MORE!” What’s worse is that I still know what is better than letting myself go into this rebellion. Do I care? Not usually.
I am included in this culture where the idea of structure is confused with oppression. Being given guidelines and rules to keep us safe is not the same as being kept from enjoying life. God is not withholding just because I don’t have what I want when I want it.
dirty

Chronicles of Don’t: Thoughts on Friends

04 Monday Nov 2013

Posted by Meagan Sean in Chronicles of Don't, Dirty's Reports

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Chronicles of Don't, complaining, Human Interest, True Life

sbbff

I have had a few different best friends. My sister; we bonded over Stockholm syndrome. My best friend from high school; we went through a lot of stuff and she’s still important to me. My best friend from college; still my best friend. I’ve also had the pleasure of keeping in touch with certain people over the years who i consider to be good friends.
And then there are the Don’ts.
I used to have the opposite of trust issues. I wouldn’t call myself gullible, but I was optimistic about the people in my life being honest and truthful, caring and considerate. Now I see that I was naive.
My superhuman ability to trust people created a doormat of a person. I would allow people to walk all over me.

You were supposed to be here at 6 and it’s 6:45? I’m sure there’s a good reason for it.
You only keep me around so that you can feel thinner/more educated/more sophisticated/tell a more stories/never feel threatened that the cute guy will choose to talk to you? Great, lots of pressure off me.
You want me to let you into your ex boyfriends building so you can have another confrontation? I’m your girl!
You want to only contact me when it’s convenient for you, every 8 months or so? I’ll answer my phone, no worries.
Your mom died? Please, let me introduce you to my mom so you can have some positive maternal figure in your life.
Wait, you mom didn’t die? But, wait, why did you tell the entire faculty at school that she did? Why did you need to get a loan from my mother and never pay it back? Why did you have to live with my mother rent free, take a free trip to California? Why did you decide to lie about your brother dying as well? Why did you lie about being pregnant? Is the kid you swear up and down that you had in college real? No?
Wait, why am I doing this?

That was the first turning point. Knowing that someone could lie so thoroughly about everything and get away with it, leeching as much as possible from the lives of people who care about them… I stopped being so optimistic.
Then there was almost 10 years of friendship that were voided when I gave a bad haircut. No excuses, a bad haircut is a bad haircut, also I can hardly remember what it turned out to be. I like to block out bad memories I guess. But what did get seared into my mind was the phone call where I was told some of the most hurtful things I’ve ever had to listen to. She was my best friend through so many years, and just like that the entire friendship dissolved. I wanted to believe that the good qualities of our friendship would outweigh the negative ones, but ultimately our friendship is one I don’t miss much.
And life without these friendships is less dramatic. I didn’t realize how much room in my brain was being taken up with stupid fights, hissy fits, drug problems, eating disorders, health issues, my own constant fear of someone I love killing themselves somehow just because I had decided to keep people in my life who didn’t deserve my trust. Life is dramatic enough. Now I don’t have to worry about the unnecessary excess of emotional baggage.
Of course I am not a perfect friend either. I don’t keep in touch very well. I usually say the wrong thing at the most inappropriate time. I also say the wrong thing at the appropriate time. I generally just say the wrong thing a lot. It’s taken me years to learn what the true meaning of loyalty is. It’s taken a lot of observation to understand what consideration and love look like when you use them. But now one issue I don’t think I have to worry about as much is being a doormat. I am who I am and sometimes that’s a pushover, but I also have a better idea as to what being taken advantage of looks like. And I couldn’t have known that without the help of my (former) friends.
dirty

Chronicles of Don’t: The POP Experience

09 Wednesday Oct 2013

Posted by Meagan Sean in Chronicles of Don't, Dirty's Reports

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Chronicles of Don't, True Life

burritos
I have never been a fan of dating around just to see what’s out there. That said, I seem to have a good idea of what’s out there due in part to having dated around. For instance, some guys are Perfect on Paper (POP): Pick a description of a perfect guy and this guy is that. It’s uncanny. But in my experience, POP doesn’t take you as far as you’d think.
My POP happened in college. He really could have been perfect, except for the part where he wasn’t perfect for me. But seriously, if he had applied for the job of my boyfriend I would have hired him after just reading his resume, no interview needed. He and I had so many things about our upbringing that were similar, he was tall and adorable, he could dress himself, he had a job and took care of himself financially for the most part, and his parents were British so he could do a great British accent. Oh, and did I mention my parents loved him? Yeah.
Even before I agreed to go out with him I could hear the “don’t!” and successfully ignored it. He and I had been friends for a long time, and even though I didn’t want to ruin that… Well, I did. We didn’t talk for a long time after we broke up.
We were supposed to be a great match. He was sweet, one of the only guys to ever take me out on dates, affectionate… but it didn’t work. Our personalities were not right for each other. I was too snarky, we had a different sense of humor entirely, and he kept trying to get me to quit smoking “for my health”. Also, he was a bad kisser. (Like, we were at the same party once after we had finally become friends after the break up and instead of letting him kiss me I went off and made out with some possibly Russian foreign exchange student. Evasion: successful!)
But it wasn’t his fault. I still think of him as a friend, he’s a great kid. And I’m glad that I dated him because God got to show me that what I had in mind for myself as perfect is no where near as good as what He’s designed as my perfect. And while that’s a difficult lesson to learn, it’s ultimately what keeps me from making even more Don’ts than I currently do.
dirty

← Older posts

Who, me?


I consider myself an eccentric who looks good in jeans, or an amateur at adulthood. I live in Maine, enjoy writing and photography as creative outlets, and listen to some of the worst music you've ever heard. I’m good at sin and bad at following Christ, but I’m still letting Him take the lead. Dirty is my middle name. So is Sean.
The purpose of this blog is to keep a record while I'm unearthing treasures, mapping truths, and navigating life.

Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Blogs by Christian Women

blogs by christian women

Categories

  • Adventures in Food (6)
  • Chronicles of Don't (6)
  • Cosmo-Girl (4)
  • Crafty Little… (11)
  • Dirty Dozen (27)
  • Dirty Little… (31)
  • Dirty's Reports (96)
  • Holidays (17)
  • Human Interest (60)
  • I Made This (3)
  • In Memoriam (4)
  • Inspirations (5)
  • SOAP (5)
  • Style (10)
  • Things TV Teaches Me (5)
  • Uncategorized (2)

Blogroll

  • A Beautiful Mess
  • A Softer World
  • Convos with my 2-year-old
  • Delightfully Tacky
  • Gala Darling
  • Good for the Soule
  • Good Women Project
  • Grace is for Sinners
  • Honestly…WTF
  • Ramshackle Glam
  • The Band Wife
  • The Beauty Department

Past Posts

No Instagram images were found.

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.

Privacy & Cookies: This site uses cookies. By continuing to use this website, you agree to their use.
To find out more, including how to control cookies, see here: Cookie Policy
  • Follow Following
    • Dirty Sean
    • Join 47 other followers
    • Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
    • Dirty Sean
    • Customize
    • Follow Following
    • Sign up
    • Log in
    • Report this content
    • View site in Reader
    • Manage subscriptions
    • Collapse this bar
 

Loading Comments...